


An Impossibly Long Day

by justspn



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Caring Dean Winchester, Sick Sam Winchester, life at the bunker, stomach flu, strep throat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-26
Updated: 2017-08-26
Packaged: 2018-12-20 06:35:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,016
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11915196
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justspn/pseuds/justspn
Summary: Sam could tell it was going to be an impossibly long day already. He had a headache and his stomach was cramping, not to mention the way his throat was starting to burn. He crawled out of bed and dug through the first aid kit until he found some Tylenol. He took four, hoping it would numb him back to sleep. Maybe, if he was lucky, he could sleep most of the day in the car too. He crawled back into bed and pulled the blankets up over his eyes. He floated back to sleep as the throbbing in his temples dissolved.





	An Impossibly Long Day

Sam rolled over and cracked open one eye. The early morning sunlight was shining around the edges of the curtains. Dean was still passed out on his bed. Sam glanced at his phone screen. 5:45am. Dean would be awake soon and push to get on the road. 

Ever since they’d moved into the Bunker, they only slept in shitty motels when it was totally necessary. Last night was one of those nights. Today Dean would push to get back to the Bunker so they could sleep on their memory-foam mattresses. 

Sam could tell it was going to be an impossibly long day already. He had a headache and his stomach was cramping, not to mention the way his throat was starting to burn. He crawled out of bed and dug through the first aid kit until he found some Tylenol. He took four, hoping it would numb him back to sleep. Maybe, if he was lucky, he could sleep most of the day in the car too. He crawled back into bed and pulled the blankets up over his eyes. He floated back to sleep as the throbbing in his temples dissolved. 

“Sammy, let’s get on the road!” Dean said, pulling on Sam’s Sasquatch foot. 

Sam groaned and pulled his head out from under his blankets. “Time is it?” Sam asked, surprised that his voice was mostly lost. 

“Quarter to 8. Let’s go.” 

Sam rolled out of bed and stumbled to the bathroom to get dressed before stuffing the bottle of Tylenol into his jacket pocket and crawling into the passenger seat of the Impala. Dean started her up and they were off. Dean had Metallica cranking and Sam kept casually turning it down a few notches while simultaneously turning the heat up. 

Dean noticed what Sam was doing but didn’t say anything. If the Sasquatch was sick he would speak up sooner or later. 

At quarter to 10 Sam downed four more Tylenol. He rested his head against the cold glass of the window and closed his eyes. His head was pounding again and his stomach was jostling and uncomfortable feeling. He hadn’t eaten much at dinner last night and blamed it on how tired he was, but he was afraid what little he had eaten would make a reappearance.

xxxxx

Sam awoke with a start when he felt the Impala slow to a stop and shut off. He sat up and looked around. They were at a gas station, and Dean was watching him with concern.

“You feeling okay?” Dean asked, his voice gentle. 

Sam rubbed his eyes. His head was still pounding but his nausea, which had disappeared while he slept, was back in full swing. “Feel like shit.” he whispered, still finding he had no voice. 

“Yeah, you’re real green. Figured I’d stop before you puked in your sleep.” Dean said. “Need to go inside?”

“Need air.” Sam said, shaking his head. 

“K. I’m gonna fill her up and run inside. Be right back.” 

Sam nodded and got out the car. He stood leaning against the trunk. There was a chilly mist hanging around him making him shiver. He took a deep breath and wished he had some Pepto-Bismol. He hated the taste, but the stuff was magic. He shrugged his jacket closer around him and waited for Dean to return from inside the store. Now that he was awake he had to pee. Might as well go while he was vertical. 

Dean took a leak and the searched the gas station for a bottle of Pepto-Bismol. He wasn’t sure why, but Sam thought the stuff was magic. He thought flat ginger ale and plain toast worked better, but whatever floated Sammy’s boat. It took some extreme back shelf searching, but Dean found the pink stuff behind a few boxes of condoms. He grabbed the bottle along with some water and paid at the register. 

Sam sighed when he saw Dean walk up. He pointed to the station and went inside. After relieving himself he washed his hands and splashed some cold water on his face. Dean was right. When Sam looked in the mirror he saw a green face looking back at him. He didn’t feel sick enough to warrant such a green tint, but in a few hours he guessed he’d feel greener than green. He made his way back to the Impala and crawled into the front seat. 

“Wanna lie down in the back?” Dean asked as he handed Sam the pink magic and some water. 

Sam took a swig of Pepto, chased it down with some water, and nodded. He didn’t feel like climbing over the seat, so he got out of the car and went into the back. 

Dean set another water by Sam and looked over him with worry heavy in his stomach. The last time Sam had been this green Dean had taken him to the hospital because he couldn’t keep anything down. “Want a blanket?” Dean asked quietly. 

Sam nodded and curled up in the back seat. He didn’t fit like he used to, but it would do in a pinch. Dean pulled a blanket out from under the seat and flopped it over his little brother. “How long till we get home?” Sam whispered, pulling the blanket up under his chin. 

“Bout 4 more hours. You gonna live that long?” Dean asked. 

“Guess we’ll find out.” Sam whispered. He wasn’t sure why he’d lost his voice, but it was a pain in his ass. 

“Just don’t puke in my baby.” Dean said, smiling. He turner back around and started the Impala.

xxxxx

3 hours and 45 minutes later Dean parked in the garage of the Bunker. Dean looked over his shoulder. Sam was asleep, but still green around his lips and eyes. He reached down and gently shook Sam’s shoulder. “Sammy, wake up. We’re home.”

Sam opened his eyes. Dean was looking down at him with concern. 

“Let’s get you to bed.” Dean said. He grabbed their duffles and waited for Sam to get with it enough to stand up. 

Sam rubbed his temples and sat up slowly. His stomach was rolling more violently than it had been when he’d finally fallen asleep. When he was sure he wasn’t going to vomit, he got out of the car. Dean gave him a reassuring smile and waited for him to go into the Bunker. Sam shuffled down the stairs and into the bathroom. He wanted to lie down and never get up again, but he decided he should take a shower first. He was a shivering mess and thought that maybe a shower would help his headache and sore throat. He turned the shower on as hot as it would go and got in, steadying himself on the wall. Despite his shivering, the hot water made him feel worse. It was far too hot, and his nausea kicked up a notch. He reached out to turn the water cooler but the damage had been done. He could feel the sweat breaking out on his forehead and bile rising up in his throat. His vision fuzzed black and he had to kneel on the shower floor so he wouldn’t pass out, water pounding down on his back.

Dean went into the bathroom to put his toothbrush away when he heard Sam gag. He walked over the gang shower and peeked in, afraid to see a naked Sam. His fear that Sam might drown overcame his fear of seeing his brother naked. He saw Sam hunched on the floor, helplessly throwing up all over himself. Dean grabbed a towel and went in after his brother. He shut the water off and draped the towel over Sam’s shivering frame. “It’s okay Sammy.” Dean said, rubbing Sam’s back. 

Sam kept retching until he had nothing left in him to bring up. When all had been still for a few minutes Dean stood up.

“Ready to put some clothes on?” Dean asked. He felt his heart break when he saw Sam look up at him, wet dog faced, pale as a ghost, and shivering. Sam nodded miserably. Dean pulled Sam to his feet and averted his eyes while Sam wrapped a towel around his waist. They walked to the sink so Sam could brush his teeth and then they went to Sam’s room. Dean set some clean sweats on the foot of Sam’s bed and left the room to give Sam some privacy and to get the thermometer. He felt heat rolling of Sam’s skin while he was brushing his teeth.

When Dean returned, Sam was dressed and in the middle of burying himself under the blankets. “Let me take your Sasquatch temperature before you fall asleep again.” Dean said. He stuck the thermometer in Sam’s mouth once he got himself settled. He looked like a puppy that was left out in the freezing rain. “102.” Dean announced.

“Feel like shit De,” Sam whispered, closing his eyes. He was exhausted but knew he couldn’t sleep. His stomach was impossibly more upset than it was before he threw up everywhere. 

“I know you do Sammy.” Dean said, sitting next to Sam on the bed. He reached out and brushed the hair out of Sam’s face. “You need anything?”

“Pepto. Water.” Sam groaned. “Bucket.” 

Dean jumped up. “Bucket now?” he asked, looking around the room for anything Sam could throw up in. 

Sam shook his head. “Not now, but soon. Feel worse than I did before I puked.”

“Oh, okay. Pepto, water, bucket-coming up.” Dean said, jogging out of the room. He grabbed some Tylenol along with the Pepto and returned to Sam’s room. “Here you go.” he said handing Sam the Pepto and some water. He set a bucket on the floor where Sam could reach it. “You need to take some Tylenol too. Gotta get that that fever down.”

Sam gulped down the Pepto, washed the taste away, and took the pills Dean was handing him. 

“Anything else your highness?” Dean asked, trying to get a smirk from Sam. Sam just shook his head and closed his eyes. “So when did you start feeling shitty? Seemed to go down hill pretty quick.” Dean sat back down on Sam’s bed and rubbed his feet through the blankets. 

“Woke up around 5:45 this morning with a pounding headache. Stomach felt funny at dinner last night but I figured it was just because of how tired I’ve been lately. Took some Tylenol and went back to sleep.” Sam whispered, pulling the blankets closer around him. 

“Any idea why you lost your voice?” 

“My throat is sore, but doesn’t seem like my voice should be gone cause of it.”

“Huh,” Dean said. “Want me to pop a movie in or do you want asleep?” 

“Movie is fine. Too nauseous to sleep.” Sam answered, opening his eyes a little. He liked the fact that Dean was sitting with him despite Dean’s irrational fear of vomit. It reminded him of old times, when Dad would be gone and Dean had to care for him if he got sick. It was a strange feeling to get sick at Stanford and have to take care of himself, or to let Jess take care of him. Dean was the best person for the job. He knew exactly what Sam needed and when he needed it, sometimes even before Sam knew what he needed.

Dean turned the tv on and popped in Batman, rewatching it for the 1000th time. “Mind if I lay with you?” he asked, knowing Sam usually needed snuggles when he was sick.

“Come on down! You’re the next contestant on puke your guts out!” Sam said sarcastically.

Dean smiled and plopped down on the bed next to Sam, crawling under the blankets. Sam was a freaking furnace, but Dean let him snuggle up to his side anyway.

xxxxx

An hour into the movie Sam felt his stomach cramp painfully. Suddenly, he was too hot and beads of sweat were running down his throbbing temples. He burped and tasted bile. Knowing what was going to happen next, Sam scrambled out of bed and headed for the bathroom, only to have his vision black out. He ended up on the floor, trying not to retch all over the rug.

Dean was there in a second, helping Sam sit up and placing the bucket under Sam’s chin. “It’s okay Sammy, the bucket’s there.” Dean said. He gently rubbed Sam’s back as he threw up the water and half dissolved pills he’d taken earlier.

When he’d finished, Sam pushed the bucket away and curled in on himself. His headache intensified and he wanted to die. He felt Dean lit him up by his armpits. “De,” he whispered.

“I’m right here Sammy. You’ll be okay.” Dean whispered back, pulling Sam up onto the bed. 

“Want to die.” Sam croaked, curling into a ball on the bed, shivers racking his body. 

Dean pulled the blankets over Sam and felt his forehead. “You’re burning up Sammy.” He put the thermometer in Sam’s mouth and watched the numbers rise until they settled on 103. “Shit Sam, we’ve gotta get this down before you fry your brain.” Dean stuck the thermometer on the table and pulled Sam up. “Come on. You know the drill.”

Sam wished he didn’t know the drill, or that there was a different procedure. Dean was right, of course, it was the only way to get his fever down quickly, but cold showers sucked even when you didn’t have a fever. 

“No.” Sam said, holding tight to the blankets. 

“Yes. We don’t have any other choice.” Dean said. Sam was too weak to fight Dean off, so he let Dean drag him to the bathroom. 

Dean stripped Sam down to his boxers and set him under the cold spray.

“Please, De, stop,” Sam cried, tears running down his cheeks. The water felt like needles pounding into his skin, but the cold was easing his headache a little. 

“I know it sucks man, but we gotta get your temperature down.” Dean said, glancing at his watch. “Only a few more minutes and then I’ll stop it.” 

Sam curled in on himself, covering his face with his hands. He knew Dean was right, but it still sucked giant asshole. If the water weren’t so damn cold it would be bearable. “De, please make it stop.” Sam whispered through his hands. He felt Dean reach out to his forehead.

“It’s better than it was, but it’s still pretty high Sammy.” Dean grabbed the thermometer and pulled Sam out of the spray momentarily. He stuck the thermometer in Sam’s mouth. The numbers climbed, but not as high as before. 

“Well, you’re down to 101. Guess we can turn this off.” Dean said as he reached out and shut the water off. He draped a towel around Sam’s shoulders and dried him off. He was shivering hard enough to make his teeth chatter and Dean felt like an ass for making Sam cry.

Sam grabbed Dean’s hands and allowed Dean to pull him up. He leaned against the wall, shuddering, as Dean got him some clothes to put on. 

“Here Sammy,” Dean said softly, helping to pull one of his foodies over Sam’s head. He looked away as Sam changed out of his drenched boxers and into a pair of dry sweats. “Let’s get you back to bed.” Dean said, wrapping an arm around Sam’s waist. “Think you can handle some water and Tylenol?”

Sam grimaced. “Guess I can try.” He sat down on the bed and laid back on his pillows. 

“Good. I’ll be right back. Hold tight.” Dean left the room to get water and some flat ginger ale. He thought dry toast might help too, so he made some and brought it in to Sam. “Here. I made you some toast in case you want to try it.” Dean said, handing Sam some Tylenol and putting the water, ginger ale, and toast on the bedside table. 

Sam took the Tylenol, grimacing as the pills scraped his raw throat. He chugged some Pepto after, and followed it all with water. Pulling the blankets up over his shoulders, Sam closed his eyes and curled in on himself. 

“Want some toast? Ginger ale?” Dean asked. 

Sam shook his head.

“More water then. You’re dehydrated.” Dean held out the bottle.

Sam reluctantly took it from his brother. He drank some of it down, but after a few sips he decided he better stop before he barfed again. “Can’t drink anymore.” Sam whispered. He handed the bottle back to Dean.

“Okay. We’ll try again later.” Dean said. “Another movie?” 

Sam nodded and rolled over. Dean popped another movie in and settled in next to Sam. He let Sam rest his head on Dean’s shoulder.

Sam fell asleep within five minutes of the opening credits and Dean tried to ignore the painful moans coming from Sam as he slept. Dean wondered if Sam was having a nightmare, but didn’t want to wake him to find out. 

xxxxx

The movie was halfway through when Sam woke up. He sat up, searching for some water. He was sure he’d never been so thirsty in his whole life.

“What’s up Sam?” Dean asked, jumping out of bed with the bucket ready.

“Need water.” Sam answered. His throat was so sore and his head was pounding in time with his heart. 

Dean grabbed a bottle and handed it to Sam. “Easy, slow sips. Don’t chug it.” Dean said, almost having to reach out and take the bottle away.

Sam slowed down his pace but was still so thirsty. When he finished the bottle he handed it to Dean. 

“Another?” He asked.

Sam nodded and slowly sat up. So far his stomach was feeling okay with all the water.

Dean came back with water and a Gatorade. “Which do you want?”

Sam grabbed the water, afraid the Gatorade might upset his momentarily peaceful stomach. He cracked it open and sipped at it, trying to quench his awful thirst. His throat felt like it was on fire, but not because of his stomach acid. His head was still pounding, but he thought that maybe the water was helping ease it up a little. 

Dean sat by Sam’s legs and watched his fevered brother drink another bottle of water. Fingers crossed he didn’t puke this one up. If he did, Dean would probably end up taking him the the ER, and he knew that was the last place Sam wanted to go. 

“Try and keep this water down Sammy,” Dean said, smoothing the blankets over Sam’s legs. “Don’t really feel like taking you to the hospital.”

“Don’t want to go anyway.” Sam whispered. His voice was still gone.

“How’re you feeling?” Dean asked, reaching out to feel Sam’s forehead. He was still warm, but significantly cooler than he had been after the cold shower.

“I mean, I’ve been better.” Sam joked. 

“Really Sam, what hurts. I can tell something hurts right now.”

“My head and my throat. Stomach is okay for now. Sounds weird, but it feels like strep.” Sam answered, putting aside the water. 

“That would explain the lost voice and the fever.” Dean said, rubbing his chin. If Sam thought he had strep, he probably had it. He’d caught it enough as a kid to be able to self diagnose by the time he was in high school. “I’m gonna go see if we have any penicillin left from last time.”

Dean looked through the med kit in the trunk of the Impala and found a bottle of the drug. 

“Bingo!” he said, walking back into Sam’s room. “There’s enough here for this time, but next time you catch it we’ll have to bring you in to get more.” Dean pulled out a flashlight from the nightstand. “Open up.” He looked at the back of Sam’s throat, and sure enough, there were white splotches covering the flesh. “It is indeed strep.” Dean said, pushing a few pills into Sam’s hand. “No wonder you feel so shitty. Haven’t see you this bad in a long time.”

“Knock on wood, but I think the puking part is over.” Sam whispered, sliding back under the covers. 

“You’re not so green anymore. Want to try some toast?”Dean asked, ready to go make some.

Sam shook his head. “Not yet. Don’t wanna push my luck. Besides, I’m not hungry.”

“Well, I’m starved. You gonna be okay while I go eat something?”

“Yeah.” Sam yawned. He thought he could feel the penicillin kicking in as he laid there.

xxxxx

Dean went into the kitchen, hoping there was food he could scrape together. He found some pasta and cooked that. He was gone all of 30 minutes. When he went back to check on Sam, Sam was trying to reach his phone. 

“What’s up Sammy?” Dean asked, glancing at the puke bucket. He hadn't thrown up again. 

“Gotta piss.” Sam whispered, pushing the blankets off himself. He had been waiting for a bit for Dean to come back from eating, but Dean took forever and Sam couldn’t wait much longer. The water he’d chugged was catching up to him real quick. 

“I gotta check my pasta, wait till I get back?” Dean asked, heading out of the room.

“No De, now.” Sam said with as much force as he could muster. “Gotta go now.”

“Oh, okay.” Dean said going over to help Sam up. He walked Sam to the bathroom. “If you weren’t sick as a dog I’d never let you hear the end of this.” Dean laughed, motioning to the bulge in Sam’s pants that was made from Sam’s hand thrust into his pocket to grab his junk to keep the pee in.

“Just shut it Dean. And walk faster. I really have to go.” Sam whined. It had been a long time since he had to piss so bad he needed to hold himself. Like, since middle school, long time. 

Sam made it to the urinal without incident. He sighed as he relieved himself. 

“If only you weren’t sick man.” Dean laughed as they made their way back to Sam's room.

“Shut up Dean.” Sam whined as he crawled back into bed 

Dean smirked and pulled the blankets up under Sam’s chin. “I’ll be back after I eat. Get some sleep, okay?”

Sam nodded and closed his eyes.

xxxxx

The next morning Sam woke up feeling pretty okay. His throat still hurt and his body ached, but his headache was gone and he wasn't completely nauseous. He looked around for Dean, but he wasn’t there. He slowly got out of bed, testing his balance. It seemed okay, so he went to the bathroom. After a quick shower, he went to find Dean.

Dean was in the kitchen drinking coffee and reading the paper. He put the paper down when he saw Sam in the doorway. “How’re you feeling?” Dean asked, ready to jump up and catch a fainting Sasquatch. 

“Better.” Sam said, trying out his voice. It was patchy, but there.

“You look tired.” Dean said, reaching over to feel Sam’s forehead. “Still too warm.”

“I didn’t say perfect, just better.” Sam sighed, resting his head on the table. Taking a shower had worn him out. 

“Want breakfast?” Dean asked, standing up to get more coffee.

“No. Don’t feel that good.” Sam answered. 

“Back to bed then. No sleeping at the kitchen table.” Dean ordered. 

“Yes Mr Sir.” Sam joked, standing up. He had to steady himself on Dean’s outstretched arm, but made it back to his room on his own other than that.

“Want me to change the sheets?” Dean asked, noticing a smell when he walked in. 

“Yes please.” Sam huffed, sitting down heavily at his desk.

Dean changed the sheets and got Sam all settled. “Another movie?”

“Sure.” Sam answered, already beginning to fall asleep. He felt Dean crawl into bed with him and, as he snuggled up to Dean’s side, was so glad that the impossibly long day was finally over.


End file.
